


A Perfect Submissive

by highlanderprincess



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, F/M, Rough Sex, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-26 23:12:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9928235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highlanderprincess/pseuds/highlanderprincess
Summary: When Mr. Masen finds a beautiful brunette in a deteriorating strip club he feels instantly drawn to her. Bella wants a new life, but lacks self-control and discipline. Which Mr. Masen can easily teach her with his heavy hand and controlling nature. Will Bella let this mysterious man take her down a dark path? Can Mr. Masen save Bella from her horrid reality?Warning: Explicit Content! Lemons and BDSM





	1. Lust at First Sight

Chapter I: Lust at First Sight  
He is a vision of serenity in his seat across the darkened room. The fluorescent lights illuminate his face; for so many, the colors are unflattering, but the lightening on this man in particular only illustrates his sculpted facial structure and strong jaw line. Why would a beautiful man like him be in such a place like this?  
Sliding off my stoop, I make my way toward him. I have grown used to approaching men, but this man is so different. His confidence and power are evident in his posture as his eyes search the crowded room. I feel drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, causing my brain to be unresponsive as my high heeled feet trail toward him on their own accord.  
As I grow closer my heart begins to race. I’ve never felt so nervous about doing my job before. Although in real life I am meek and submissive, here I am something else entirely. I take on a different persona, a different name, and pretend that I am anywhere but here. When I am on a stranger’s lap, my mind is far away. I transport myself to a place where I am happy; I ignore the stench of alcohol and tobacco that reeks from the pores of whatever guest is currently between my thighs.  
As if he feels my presence, his eyes shoot up to mine, stopping me in my tracks. His eyes are the most amazing shade of emerald green. They sparkle in the dark atmosphere sending my mind reeling. Taking a deep breath, I continue to walk toward him, knowing that now he has seen me I cannot back down. He looks as if he is expecting me.  
He looks refined and older, but the only thing that gives his age away is the few wrinkles that surround his handsome eyes. I give him a coy smile as I stop myself a few inches in front of his chair. He gazes up at me, but his face remains the same cool impassive expression.  
“Would you like to go to the backroom with me,” I ask in my forced sultry voice I have become much too good at using.  
But on this occasion, I’m unsure how forced the tone really is. I’ve never been so attracted to a customer before. My thoughts are usually too far away to notice the man in front of me. I see them more as a means to an end then a person.  
His impassive look disappears, being replaced with sly smile.  
“Is that what you want?”  
His voice stuns me momentarily. His tone is rich like chocolate, his words wrapping around me feeling like the smoothest velvet against my skin. No one has ever asked me what I wanted before.  
Before I can answer, he smirks up at me and smooths the lapels of his suit.  
“Lead the way,” he says as he rises from his seat.  
As his eyes rack over my body I become very aware at my practically naked state. In my lace thong and matching lace unlined bra, I feel practically nude. It is so crude, the way he blatantly stares at me. I’m uncomfortable and aroused under his intense eye. I lead him through the crowded club, dodging the few drunken men who try to swat my ass or grab my hips a bit too tightly.  
The private longue is well lit and intimate. I always thought it was a rather attractive room for such a horrid place, with burgundy walls and ivory colored furniture. There is a small stage with a pole in front of a simple leather chair. I like being on stage, it’s the one place I can come in contact with no one.  
“Would you like a drink sir,” I ask as I usher him to sit.  
“Please.”  
He sits down on the ivory chair and loosens his tie. He looks incredible. I want nothing more than to run my tongue along the length of his strong jawline. Pouring him a glass of Hendricks on the rocks, I saunter toward him, delighted as his eyes roam over the lines of my body.  
“Here you go sir,” I say politely as I hand him a drink, “what would you like from me tonight?”  
“You may sit on my lap until I finish my drink,” he says in a flat tone. He seems so at ease and unaffected by me.  
I sit on his lap, wanting nothing more than to please him. I watch his Adam’s apple quiver as he takes a long drink of his gin. One hand comes up to rest on my ass as he continues to drink. When his glass is almost empty, he looks at me with a quizzical eye.  
“Do you enjoy working here,” the man coolly asks. His tone is one of disinterest, but his eyes are searching mine for an answer.  
“Of course,” I say too quickly and the man notices it.  
“You enjoy having men look at you?”  
I feel naked under his gaze and want nothing more than to cover up my nipples that are puckering through the light lace fabric of my bra’s cups.  
“Yes,” I say with a dead voice.  
“Well I enjoy looking at you. You are a beautiful girl,” he says as if he is stating a fact rather than complimenting me.  
“Thank you,” I say anyway.  
“Are you old enough to be working here,” he asks as he takes another drink.  
My cheeks instantly heat up with an intense blush. Is this man a cop or something? Perhaps that is why he looks so terribly out of place.  
“I’m twenty-two,” I answer honestly.  
“That’s good,” he comments, “you look much younger.”  
I am at a loss for words. I’ve never made small talk with a customer before. Men rarely want to talk to me; they just want to get to the point.  
“Would you like me to dance for you now,” I ask, trying to keep the uncertainty out of my voice.  
He looks almost amused as he puts down his drink. “If it will please you to do so you may.”  
This beautiful man is so weird. I feel put off and aroused at the same time.  
I walk to the corner of the room and turn up the volume on the speakers until a quick tempo song fills the room. I don’t listen to the lyrics, I never do. All the music in this club sounds the same to me. The songs have similar beats and loud bass. Not music you really meditate on the meaning of.  
Sauntering back over to the man who is appraising me with a thoughtful gaze, I slide onto his lap and let my body begin to move to the beat. Usually I would dance on stage, but something about this man makes me yearn to be near him.  
His eyes rack over my body and I feel completely exposed and deliciously wet. I press my dripping core against the crotch of his trousers, unable to contain myself. His eyes darken as he looks at me, and I nearly cum when I watch him lick his lips.  
“What’s your name beautiful,” he asks in a husky voice.  
He places his palms on my ass and I grind against him. Should I tell him my true name or tell him the lie?  
“Jane,” I decide on.  
“Jane,” he chuckles, “plain Jane? That doesn’t fit you at all.”  
Intuitive, I’ll give the man that. His eyes bore into me as if he can see me for who I truly am. I feel shaken by his captivating gaze.  
“Well that’s the name my mother gave me,” I tease as I bounce around on his lap.  
“Sure it is,” he mutters.  
I feel his erection between my legs and I want nothing more than to ride it until I reach my orgasm. The song finishes and I move off his lap.  
“What will it take to get you to come home with me,” he says, very curt and businesslike all of the sudden.  
He smooths his dress pants and gazes up at me expectantly.  
“I’m not a whore,” I mutter in disbelief.  
Part of me is outraged by his assessment but part of me thinks maybe I can be his whore, just for tonight.  
“I wouldn’t pay,” he smirks.  
I bite my lip and focus on the throbbing sensation between my legs. I haven’t had sex since high school and with a man such as this offering it to me, it’s hard to deny myself. Fidgeting in my heels I gaze up at the man who is now standing before me. He easily towers over my five foot four inch frame. His copper hair shines against the room’s spotlights and I’m captivated by him once again.  
“I get off in an hour,” I finally say as I regain my strength.  
“Perfect, I shall wait for you Jane,” he smirks before stepping out of the private room and makes his way back to his table.


	2. First Encounter

Chapter II: First Encounter  
He’s in my mind all night. As I strut around the club, as I dance on men’s laps, as I pocket whatever money I can reach, he is in my every thought. He knows it too. I can tell from the way he smirks at me from across the dark room. This is what he wanted, to get in my head, and he did it…so very easily. Once the clock strikes midnight, like Cinderella I finally leave this scum infested place.   
I walk to the bar to tip out and tell Jack, the owner of this means to an end, that I’m finally going. He watches me as I walk away, he always does. He watches all of the women here without apology. Jack makes my skin crawl. I slide on my trench coat, covering my glittered body before quickly leaving Jack’s smoke filled office.   
“You’re finally free,” a familiar voice says softly into my overdone hair.   
I didn’t feel him come up behind me and the thought of his ability to creep up on me is unnerving. Breathless, I glance back at him, finding his perfectly sculpted face darkly smiling down at me. There is a darkness that surrounds him, a mysterious feeling he gives off that I can’t quite define. He is dangerous, but I am sure he will not harm me.   
“I am,” I say meekly, “are we going to your place?”  
He grins wolfishly at me before answering. “Of course lovely. My car is parked just outside.”   
I fall in step with him and I quiver at the feeling of his hand on my back, guiding me out of the dark club. As soon as the fresh air hits my face, I smile the first genuine smile I have produced all night. I can finally breathe again. I feel light and the disturbing feeling that digs into my heart is finally gone.   
“You do not like it there do you?” It is not a question, he is stating a fact.   
“I don’t want to talk about work,” I say immediately as he ushers me to a dark Audi.   
“Is Jane your true name,” he asks. He holds the passenger door like a true gentleman and offers his right hand to help me inside.   
I blush. No man’s ever treated me with such consideration before.   
“No,” I whisper as he shuts the car door.   
As he slides into his driver’s seat and loosens his red neck tie he asks, “What is your name then Jane?”  
I stare into his soulful eyes. He looks as if he can see right through me. He understands me more than most and he is a complete stranger.   
“Isabella,” I murmur.   
“Isabella.” I enjoy the way my name sounds as it rolls off his tongue. “That is a beautiful name.”   
I watch him as he moves out of the parking lot and onto the empty highway. He is even more beautiful outside the harsh lights of the club. He has a face that would inspire painters and a body that would rival any classic depiction of male beauty.   
“What is your name sir,” I ask softly.   
He’s quiet for a moment, lost in his thoughts perhaps. “You may call me Mr. Masen.”   
He is so formal, so strange.   
“Do you have a first name,” I softly tease.   
He looks amused for a moment before his eyes darken. “My family and close friends refer to me by my Christian name. You are neither.”   
I am both taken aback and turned on by his harsh tone. He is so different from any other man I have ever known. There is a mystery about him that draws me in. I want to know this man. I want to know him very much.   
“I understand Mr. Masen.”   
He smiles at my efforts, rewarding me with a crooked grin. He looks so young when he smiles. He should smile more often.   
Soon we arrive at a sleek modern home. It is black with wooden accents and large windows that allow one to see into the elegantly furnished rooms. I am in awe. It is so different than my shabby apartment that I can barely afford in the city. There are no surrounding homes for miles; instead the home is surrounded by pine trees.   
“Do you live here alone Mr. Masen,” I ask as he helps me from his car.   
“It is just me and my staff Isabella. They are not here on the weekends, so it is just you and I tonight.”   
Hearing this makes me shiver. In fear, I do not know. It feels more like anticipation for whatever Mr. Masen has planned for me. He leads me into the home and takes me to a living room that contains a bar, two leather couches, and various modern art pieces. I take a seat, enjoying the way the cold leather feels against my skin, and Mr. Masen offers to serve me.   
“I’ll take a Gin and Tonic please,” I ask quietly.   
“That’s my girl,” he approves with a dark grin.   
Handing me a Hendricks’s with tonic and a cucumber, he pours his own before sitting on the opposing leather couch.   
“Take off your coat Isabella,” he demands as he lounges back against his couch, coolly sipping on his Gin and Tonic.   
I feel myself grow wet and I press my thighs together to relieve a bit of tension. Placing my drink on the wood floor, I slip out of my trench coat, sitting before him in my club attire. Part of me is thankful that I did not bring a change of clothes to work tonight. My nipples pucker as I feel his eyes on my lace covered breasts.   
“You are a beautiful woman,” he states.   
“Thank you sir,” I blush, gazing down at the floor.   
“You please me very much Isabella,” Mr. Masen says as he licks the gin off his lips.   
I smile; pleased by his words. I’ve never felt so utterly affected by a man before, never met a man whose voice was so intensely arousing. His conjures up so many foreign feelings inside of me that beg to be released.   
“Come here and suck on my dick like a good girl.” Mr. Masen’s face is calm as the words leave his mouth. His words were not a question, they are a command. Something about that makes me so incredibly wet.   
Without hesitation, I drop to my knees and crawl the few feet toward him. He looks pleased, incredibly so, and rewards me with another smile. I sit before him on my knees, waiting for his instruction of what to do next. I can sense he enjoys the control of ordering me around already.  
I’ve pleased him again and he reaches down to pet my hair. “You may unzip my pants and pull out my cock.”   
I can’t help but smile at his words. I know that I have never been so turned on in my entire life. I do as he instructs with pleasure. As I hold his erection in my palm I’m shocked with how big it is. I’ve only seen a few erections in my life, of course men have whipped it out at the club, but I have never dropped my eyes to look. Mr. Mason is throbbing and massive in my hand. He is circumcised and over nine inches in length. But it is his impressive girth that has my jaw dropping. I can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like to have him inside of me.   
“Is something the matter Isabella or do you need my instruction?”  
I don’t have to look up at his gorgeous face to know that he is smirking.   
“Only if you want to give them to me sir,” I gaze up at him through my thick lashes.   
“Put your mouth on me like a good girl,” he says his eyes dark and his pupils dilated.   
He puts a hand on the back of my head to guide me down. I am able to wet my lips before his thick cock is in my mouth. I moan around his dick and the vibrations cause him to moan as well. He thrusts his hips off the couch and his cock hits the back of my throat, causing me to gag around him. He seems pleased by this and groans loudly in response.   
Truly, I have only performed fellatio a handful of times on my pervious boyfriends. I cannot tell if I am doing an amazing job, but Mr. Masen seems very pleased as he grips my thick hair. I pick up the pace, enjoying the feeling of him down my throat.   
“Swallow my cum,” he orders before ejaculating down my throat.   
I do as he says as he holds my head in place. His penis softens in my mouth and I release him. Smiling up at him, he makes me feel incredibly beautiful.   
“That was wonderful Isabella,” he compliments. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he gently wipes up the cum on my lips. “Should I reward you? Should you get an orgasm as well?”  
My pussy throbs and my body yearns for it, but I stay silent as I gaze up at him.


	3. Isabella's Tease

Chapter III: Isabella’s Tease  
He seems pleased as I kneel on the cold wooden floor that is becoming harsh on my knees. He enjoys my discomfort and the discipline it takes for me to kneel before him without complaint. My eyes are cast down, gazing at his flaccid penis that is resting on his thigh. Even soft, his cock is a monster and I want nothing more than to feel it rocking inside of me.   
“You have been a very good girl tonight,” he comments as he casually takes another drink of his gin.   
“Thank you Mr. Masen.” My voice shakes as I try to gain control of my trembling body.   
He is silent for a moment, as if determining what to do with my body next. I hear the ice clink together in his glass as he drinks the last of his expensive gin before he places the glass on the hard ground next to my knees.   
“Stand up and strip,” he commands.   
I am on my feet without hesitation. I want this. I’ve never wanted anything so desperately. With shaky fingers I unclasp my bra, gasping at the way the cold air feels against my breasts. My nipples pucker and a delicious shiver runs down my spine. I feel his eyes on me, unapologetically fix on my naked flesh, but I do not look at him. I stare straight ahead as the lace bra drops to the floor at my feet.   
Hooking my thumbs in my panties, I slowly draw them down my legs. The cold air dances across my dripping pussy and tickles my clit. Now that I am fully nude, I feel so vulnerable and so incredibly bare. It is very different than being nude in front of strangers. They are nameless faces in a crowd. They are meaningless. But Mr. Masen, his gaze conjures up foreign feelings in my belly that I scarcely know how to deal with.   
My pussy is dripping right in front of his eyes and when he licks his lips at the sight of me, I bite my lip to keep myself from crying out. I want to beseech him to touch me, but I remain silent. I feel that for some reason he likes it better than way.   
“Turn around,” his velvet voice commands. I step out of my panties and happily oblige him.  
As soon as my body faces away from him, his hands are on me. He kneads my ass and kisses the back of my thighs. His breath dances across my labia, so hot against my wet folds. I do not beg him, I bite my lip and patiently wait for his touch.   
“You are such a good girl.” I hear pride in his rich voice before I feel his nose near my core, inhaling the scent of my drenched pussy. “I think you deserve your reward now.”   
As soon as the sentence leaves his mouth, his lips are on me, lapping up the juices on my labia. I moan softly as he bends me forward and his skilled tongue reaches my clit. He traces circles around its head before giving it small but forceful kisses. Another moan escapes my lips.   
“Be silent Isabella,” he commands, “stay quiet like a good girl.”   
I suppress a groan, for even his harsh words make me incredibly aroused. Two long fingers enter my throbbing pussy and I do my best to stay still. Mr. Masen is playing my body like an instrument, is fingers are skilled and this is definitely an art that he is perfected with constant practice. My body grows week and the tension in my belly reaches its peak. I feel my orgasm fast approaching and I know already that it will be more powerful than anything I have experienced in my short life.   
“Don’t fucking cum,” he says harshly as he stops his ministrations.   
I hear myself whine and I still as soon as the sound is omitted from my lips.   
“I thought I told you to say silent Isabella,” he says darkly, his voice riddled with a mysterious emotion. He sounds both disappointed and pleased.   
I gasp as he pulls me back so harshly that I fall into his lap, my juices staining his expensive suit. With little effort, he bends me over his knee, positioning my ass high in the sky. What the hell is he planning on doing to me?  
“You were being such a good girl, you disappoint me Isabella,” he states as his large hand rubs my ass, warming it up. “I think you need to get punished. Perhaps a few hard slaps will teach you Isabella.”   
His hot breath caresses my neck and I wiggle my ass in the air in anticipation. I hear him chuckle darkly behind me and the sound sends a shiver down my spine. Presenting my ass to him in this manner makes me feel so exposed, and so incredibly turned on.   
“Do you know why I am doing this Isabella?”  
I stay silent.   
“You may answer me.”  
“I made a noise sir.”   
“Did I allow that Isabella?”  
“No sir.”   
“I will spank you four times Isabella and you will count with me. Then I will allow you to cum on my fingers, but only because it will please me. Do you understand Isabella?”  
“Yes sir,” I mummer before his large hand comes down firmly on my ass.   
The pain feels good, it makes me feel alive.   
“One!”  
He spanks me on my left cheek and I feel my ass warm underneath his firm hand.   
“Two!”  
I feel his heavy breathing on my exposed skin and his erection that is pressing against my stomach.   
“Three!”  
His spanks are harsh and my muscles are already feeling sore. Despite that, I feel my arousal dripping down my legs.   
“Four!”  
I finish with a scream, proud of myself for not breaking underneath his heavy hand. I can’t see Mr. Masen, but I know that he is smiling.   
“That’s my sweet girl, those spankings made you nice and wet,” his voice is warm and relaxed.   
As soon as he strokes my pussy, I know that I am close. Mr. Masen begins to play with my clit and my whole body shivers against him.   
“Cum on my fingers Isabella,” he darkly commands.   
My whole body tenses and my breaths become heavy and uncontrolled. I feel like my body is standing near a precipice and I feel the thrashing waters that threaten me from miles down below. The world is crashing around me and my body shudders as my pussy pulses around his long fingers. My body is numb and I am weak in his arms. Before I have time to think, before I come back down to earth, Mr. Masen takes me in his arms and pets my hair.   
He is strange, so wonderfully strange.   
“I enjoy watching you my good girl,” he whispers into my ear.   
“I enjoy being your good girl,” I admit shyly against his chest.   
I’m sated and relaxed in his strong embrace. I’ve never felt so connected with another person. He is a stranger, a man that is so unnerving and different, so much so that I cannot to understand him. But regardless, I feel a pull to him, as if something in the universe was bringing us together. Part of me feels as if I should be thoroughly disgusted by his odd tastes, demeaning words, and poor treatment of me. But I yearn for it; I enjoy being debased as he enjoys debasing me.   
He slides me off of his comfortable lap and rises to his feet. He offers me his hand, wanting to lead me away from the room I have now become so fond of.   
“Come Isabella, there is much to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…I’ve been doing some more research on the BDSM lifestyle for this story (my internet history is now pretty interesting haha)…also one of my best friends is a Dom so he will be helping me in the future.


	4. An Interesting Offer

Chapter IV: An Interesting Offer  
Mr. Masen leads me toward a dimly lit dining room that is decorated in dark oaks and burgundy. He holds my hand, rubs circles on its back with his thumb. Something about his touch is so tender.   
“Would you care for another drink Isabella?”  
His tone is so formal, so businesslike.   
“If it will please you sir,” I answer meekly.   
He gives me a smile of approval. I have pleased him; knowing that pleases me. He pours me a small glass of Hendrick’s over ice and gestures me to sit down. I ease into my seat at the dining room table and place my hands flat on the table’s surface. He watches me with a wolfish grin before pouring a glass of Hendrick’s for himself.   
Mr. Masen sits across the table from me and I frown at the distance. He smirks and takes a long drink of his gin, gesturing for me to do the same. Taking one hand off the table’s smooth surface, I reach for my drink and take a long and relaxing sip. The liquid stings as it goes down, but I relish in the discomfort.   
“I invited you home with me because I would like to help you.”  
This surprises me.   
“Sir,” I ask, my brows knitted together in confusion.   
“I’ve had my eye on you for some time Isabella; I’ve seen how you live. You are circling the drain as we speak.”   
Tears prick my eyes at his words, but I know he is right. I remain silent.   
“You could benefit from having someone like me in your life.”  
My mind is reeling but I say nothing.   
“You may speak freely Isabella. Tell me what is going on in that pretty little head of yours.”   
“I’m sorry sir, what do you mean you have been watching me? Have you been coming to the club? I am sure I would have recognized you if that were the case.”   
Without so much as a pause, Mr. Masen says, “I saw you leaving a bookstore two weeks ago, you captivated me. I wanted to know more, so I kept an eye on you. I was shocked, to say the least, when I found where you worked. Your life needs structure Isabella. You need discipline, before you cross too many lines leaving you unable to come back.”   
This mysterious stranger has been watching me? How could his watchful eye go unnoticed?   
“So you would discipline me?”  
“Yes,” he says with a wicked gleam in his eyes.   
“How would you do that,” I ask shyly.   
“You would willingly surrender yourself to me. In return, I shall be completely devoted to you Isabella. You must trust me to know what is in your best interest.”  
Everything I have been taught growing up tells me that I should be offended by his words. My mother had expressed her wishes for me to be independent and willful, but something inside me finds the ideas he presents to be desirable. He is right about me, in the short time he has known me he has seen through the façade. I am left feeling exposed and unnerved.   
“What are you thinking,” he commands.   
“How can I surrender myself to you?”  
“You will allow me to control which aspects of your life I see fit, sexual and otherwise. I will train you to please me. Your life will transform Isabella, I assure you.”   
The idea of him controlling me is arousing. I need his guidance, for guidance is something I so utterly lack. I have no one to find comfort in, no one to seek advice and answers from. With no family and no friends, I feel lost in this world. Mr. Masen has presented me with so much in such a short matter of time. His offer gives me hope. I can’t remember the last time I felt hopeful about anything because hope has always lead to disappointment.   
“You want to help me,” I ask quietly.   
“Helping you would please me very much Isabella,” his voice promises, “You have such potential. I would hate to see it go to waste.”  
I blush. This stranger believes in me more than I believe in myself.   
“What will I need to do?”  
“I’m a dominant Isabella. Do you know what that means?”  
I have some idea. Working at a club, I am very aware of some men’s sadomasochistic fantasies. I’ve had customers who enjoy the feeling of leather against their skin and the harsh sting of a whip against their backs. I’ve never participated in such acts, but that does not keep the curious men from asking. Mr. Masen see’s the confusion on my face and explains.   
“You will submit control to me Isabella. We will have a formal set of rules and rituals that you will learn to abide. I will use your body as I see fit. You will trust me and put your faith in me. As your dominant I will be completely devoted to you.”  
“You will punish me?” My cheeks flush with desire.   
“I will punish you because I respect you Isabella. You will be punished because I know you can perform better.”   
The thought of giving up my power is arousing. I’m so unfamiliar with the feelings Mr. Masen conjures up, but they feel wonderful. I’m at a loss for what to say. It feels dangerous for me to want something so badly.   
“You are a natural submissive Isabella.” I can hear the smile in his voice.   
This peaks my interest. I have never thought of myself as submissive. But perhaps I don’t know myself as well as I think I do.   
“How do you know?”  
“You are very respectful, very eager to please me. When you sat down tonight, you placed your palms on the table without instruction to do so. You will be a joy to train Isabella.”   
I sit up straighter in my chair, happy with his assessment. Mr. Masen believes in me.   
“You want me as your submissive?”  
“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you. Before we even spoke, I knew you would be perfect.”   
I flush and Mr. Masen reaches his hand across the oak table to place it atop of mine. His touch is soft and my heart warms. It is the most comforting touch I have felt in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I think one wonderful thing about this lifestyle is the structure it can provide. Bella definitely does not have anyone in her life to guide her and is left to make poor choices. I know she is a stripper, but she is in no way a bad person. She has just had a pretty hard life…which you will soon find out. What do you guys think about Edward following her? He is definitely not the type of man to frequent strip clubs.


	5. The Beginning

Chapter V: The Beginning   
Although I am too shy to meet his gaze, I feel Mr. Masen’s eyes on my body. His stare is calculating but his touch is tender. My mind is still reeling from the proposition he has presented. I am unfamiliar with what being a submissive would entail.   
“I have a contract prepared, one that is fairly detailed. We can go over your limits and find what you are comfortable with.”  
Mr. Masen is smiling at me and rubbing my palm in a comforting gesture. Can I do this? Can I submit myself to a man I barely know? Something within me tells me that his presence in my life would be a positive thing. I need guidance, I need structure, and I need a man like Mr. Masen. Mr. Masen is studying me as I remain silent.   
“Let me take you to bed Isabella,” he says softly, “I prefer your pussy to paperwork.”   
I blush and find I want nothing more than what he suggests. It has been so long for me. I haven’t been with a man since junior year of high school. Once I started working at the club, I found sex almost repulsing. But with Mr. Masen things are different; he does not treat me like other men do. He does not look at me like a common whore, but instead, someone to care for.   
“Do you want that Isabella,” he questions.   
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice heavy with desire.   
He smiles and helps me up from my seat. “We will go over a contract later. Tonight I want to watch you cum.”  
His words make me wet and I allow him to take my hand and lead me out of the room. His home is spectacular, unlike anything I have ever seen. I am astonished by such a display of wealth. Every room is beautifully furnished and every hallway displays extraordinary pieces of artwork. This man has lead a far different life than me. This man has not experienced pain, hunger, or loss.   
His home office is spectacular and larger than my whole apartment. Mr. Masen dims the lights and pulls me toward a long leather couch. He gives me a roguish grin as he drags my panties down my legs and removes my bra. My nipples pucker under his gaze and I ache for him to touch.   
“Are you going to take off your clothes Mr. Masen,” I tease, playfully running my hand down the buttons of his shirt.   
“You are to only speak when spoken to Isabella,” he reprimands before throwing me on the couch, the leather feeling cold against my skin.   
“But yes, Isabella, I think I will.”   
With heavy eyes I watch him undress. He is toned, but not overly muscular and his chest is lightly covered in hair. He is the most handsome man I have had the pleasure of seeing and I can’t help but gawk at him. He does not seem to mind; he smirks at me and pulls down his trousers, freeing his erection. As soon as he is naked, he joins me on his couch, pressing his warm flesh against mine.   
“Do you want this Isabella,” Mr. Masen questions as he presses his erection against my dripping core.   
I smile coyly and say nothing. I want to be his good girl.   
“You may answer me baby.”   
“Yes sir,” I blush, staring down at the proximity from his penis to my core.   
He smirks and reaches into his bedside table and rifles through a box of condoms. Taking one, he rips the package with his teeth before sliding the condom onto his throbbing erection. I watch him, my eyes transfixed on his movements. I can’t believe I am doing this, with a complete stranger at that. But I feel closer to Mr. Masen than I have the boys I have had sex with in the past.   
“Are you nervous Isabella? You are shaking,” Mr. Masen comments.   
“It’s been a long time,” I comment shyly.   
He seems surprised but says nothing. Lining up his cock with my entrance, he thoughtfully asks, “Are you ready Bella?”  
Bella. I love that. It’s what my mother used to call me.   
“Yes sir.”   
Without hesitation, Mr. Masen thrusts into me. He stretches me to me limit and I can practically feel him in the back of my throat. I groan and shimmy my hips away from him. He grabs my hips and forces me to stay still.   
“You’re so tight Isabella,” he groans as he pulls out before thrusting into my pussy with more force. “Stay still baby, I won’t hurt you.”   
I moan at his words and try to gain control of my body. As he begins to thrust, I trash beneath him, my body pleading him to bring me to orgasm. He plays my body as a familiar instrument as he plucks my nipples and rubs my clit. His touches are familiar, as if we have been together before.   
“Are you close,” he asks before suckling my nipple.   
“Yes sir,” I moan, quivering beneath his strong body.   
“Don’t cum until I tell you to,” he orders, biting my nipple before kissing me hard on the lips.   
I try to remain in control as he thrusts into me relentlessly. I bite my lip and concentrate, closing my eyes to avoid looking at the beautiful man looming over me. I hear his breaths become labored and I know he is close. He works my clit as his strong legs begin to shake between mine.   
“Are you ready to cum beautiful,” he whispers in my ear, “are you ready to cum on my cock?”  
His words make me moan and I nod my head, beseeching him to put an end to my agony. He plays with my clit and before I know it, all the tension in my body releases. He’s speaking to me but I cannot hear him over my screams. His cock is still driving into me at an unforgiving pace. As soon as my moans cease, I hear the sound of our wet skin slapping together.   
“Cum again beautiful,” Mr. Masen demands as I feel him growing close.   
I’m lost. I don’t think another orgasm is possible, but Mr. Masen seems determined. He rubs my clit and I can feel his hot breathes against my sweaty skin.   
“Come on baby, cum again for me. Cum again like a good girl,” he commands.   
His words make my pussy drip and his skilled fingers soon bring me to another intense orgasm.   
“Cum with me,” he orders as I feel him still and ejaculate.   
I cum so hard my entire body shakes. Mr. Masen is kissing every inch of my face and whispering tender words into my ear. I am so lost in my own pleasure, I barely hear him, but I know his words are kind.   
His cock softens and he pulls out of me. I cringe at the loss, feeling quite sore already. Mr. Masen pulls the condom off of his flaccid cock, knots it, and throws it on the floor. He pulls me against his hard body and pets my hair.   
“Be my submissive Isabella,” he quietly beseeches me as he runs his fingers through my hair, “you will want for nothing. I promise to take care of you, let me.”   
“Yes.”


	6. A Natural Submissive

Chapter VI: A Natural Submissive   
“Yes Sir. But you must understand that my knowledge on this life is sort of…limited.”   
Mr. Masen looks amused, his emerald eyes filled with mirth.   
“I understand that Isabella. But you are naturally submissive. That is the key element to all of this. You have to want this too. I will train you and Isabella…I am a great teacher.”   
Although I know little, I trust him. He is right about me. I crave domination; I crave the structure it can provide. It has been many years since I have felt cared for; it has been a long time since anyone in this world has looked out for me. I’ve spent so many years being angry, angry at my family, angry at God, and angry at myself. Until now, I had not realized how far I had fallen. I know if I had the courage to look in the mirror, truly look, I would not recognize myself.   
“What is it Isabella,” Mr. Masen asks after I have been quiet for too long.   
I flush and avoid his gaze. I don’t want to bare my soul to him, not yet at least. Mr. Masen rubs my back and coaxes me to speak. I can’t talk about it. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to talk about it.   
“If this relationship is going to work, we have to be open and honest with each other.”   
“It is nothing sir,” I calmly assure him, “I was merely lost in thought.”   
I glance up at him to find his gaze assessing me. I’m sure he does not believe me, but he says nothing. Mr. Masen holds me in his arms and the feeling is soothing. I don’t want to remember the last time I was comforted like this. I replace those old memories that have plagued my thoughts for so long with this new one. When I look back on a time where I felt exceptionally cared for, I shall remember this.   
“I don’t want you to return to that club Isabella,” Mr. Masen says. His voice low and riddled with disgust.   
As much as I would love to never return, I know I can’t afford it. I can barely afford my living as it is. The money has become an addiction and it’s so hard to turn away. Every day as I make the long bus ride into the city I promise myself that that day will be my last at Jack’s club. But every night when I leave with money in hand, I can’t bring myself to quit. There are not many options for a girl like me, at least none that would pay so well. When you have no one, you can’t afford to be particular.   
Jack knows this. I know that is why he hired me. It’s the same reason he has hired many girls. He wants us dependent on him, dependent on the money, and dependent on the lifestyle we become accustomed to. But for me, it is not much of a lifestyle. I barely get by. After my bills are paid there is nothing left. As soon as there is nothing left, I take my clothes off once more.   
“Sir,” my voice is uneasy, “it’s my job.”  
My reply sounds weak. I sound weak. I can’t afford to stop, not with the responsibilities I have. Mr. Masen has to understand this. I won’t be his kept woman. I won’t allow him to purchase me every night.   
“I can help you find a more suitable position. I’m sure there is something you would rather do. I know you hate the club, I could see it in your eyes,” Mr. Masen states.   
“Sir,” I begin meekly, as I do not want to anger him on this subject, “I do dislike it. But I need the money.”   
He is quiet for a moment, calculating. “You could work here…for me. I need a new housekeeper.”   
Could I truly work for this man? Shouldn’t there be some separation between us? I’m sure he would grow bored of me if I were always around. What if he were to grow bored of me, would he merely throw me out like a used toy when he was finished? I need job security, I need the money. Or perhaps, I merely don’t want to give it up. I’m surprised by this and find that I barely know myself.   
“I would like to stay where I am at,” I state quietly.   
Mr. Masen tilts my chin up so I am forced to meet his gaze. “That is out of the question Isabella. If you are to be my submissive I will not allow other men to gawk at you. You will begin to behave modestly. If you don’t, then I shall punish you. Do I make myself clear Isabella?”   
I silently gape at him, too in shock to say anything. I’ve never allowed anyone to order me around, but when Mr. Masen does it, its…arousing. Very arousing and I find myself wanting to follow his rules. I want to please him and I would like for him to be proud of me.   
“Answer me Isabella,” he commands.   
“Yes sir.”   
His gaze drops to my naked body. “Do you have any modest clothes Isabella?”  
“Yes sir.”   
It has been years since I have purchased new apparel. My clothes from high school are modest, although they are rather loose.   
“I would like you to wear something modest the next time we meet. Your appearance is a reflection on me now.” Mr. Masen pauses for a moment, appraising me. “Do you have someplace to stay Isabella?”  
Does this man believe I am homeless? Do I look homeless?   
“Yes sir,” I say, my tone riddled with embarrassment, “I have an apartment.”   
“Take some time to think Isabella. I really want you to meditate on my offer before you sign anything. We will only do what you feel comfortable with, I promise. We will meet again on Monday?”  
Although he asks, it does not sound like a question. I nod in affirmation. Mr. Masen smiles and places a kiss on my temple.   
“Monday it is then,” Mr. Masen grins. A real grin seems so uncharacteristic for this man, I stay stunned in place. “I will drive you home now.”   
“I can take a cab,” I suggest shyly. I don’t want Mr. Masen to see my apartment. I doubt he will approve.   
“I would like to drive you. That way I’ll know that you arrived safely.”   
It’s strange that he cares. But then again, I suppose I am a stranger no longer. I am his submissive and he promised to take care of me.


	7. A Pleasurable Punishment

Chapter VII: A Pleasurable Punishment  
Mr. Masen’s disapproval is clear. As soon as I told him my address, his face contorted in disgust. I could tell that he wanted to reprimand me but only because he does not fully understand my struggle. It is clear that Mr. Masen is unfamiliar with the life I lead. As we drove deep into the city, past the expensive modern homes and into the part of town that has a staple hooker at every corner; Mr. Masen began to tense beside me.   
“You live out here,” he has the gull to ask.   
I couldn’t help but become upset. This is truly the best I can do. I ignored his comment and continued to stare out the window. I gaze out at homeless men seeking shelter, women seeking a john for the night, and junkies hurrying about toward their next fix. I couldn’t help but think how easily I could be one of those people. If my mother hadn’t put a good head on my shoulders I would have been one of them. I am sure of it.   
That was what made me so upset. How could this man judge me? I would have to be daft to think my life was perfect, but it not as bad as he imagines it. I have a roof over my head and food in my belly. Sure my job is horrid at times, but without it I would be living in a shelter fighting for a warm cot every night.   
When Mr. Masen pulled in front of my complex, I plead with him to stay in his car. Mr. Masen ignored my wishes and got out of the car with a look of scorn. Compared to his home I realize my quaint apartment must appear to him as quite the dump. If I was willing to take my clothes off more often, I am sure I could afford better. But I can’t do that. Not yet.   
“Home sweet home,” I quietly tease him as soon as we arrive.   
“Isabella this is ridiculous. How could a young female possibly stay here? It cannot be safe.”   
I’m annoyed by his tone and take off in the direction of my apartment. I hear his footsteps behind me; he is moving at a relaxed pace as if to take in the scenery. My apartment is on the first floor of the complex, back by the dumpsters. At night it is eerie, but I never stay outside for long. I riffle through my bag to produce my keys and with shaky hands I unlock my front door. I’ve never felt embarrassed about my living situation until now. No one has ever been in my apartment. I have no family or friends to invite over. Mr. Masen is the first.   
I turn on the lights and step aside for Mr. Masen to enter. I can tell he is trying very hard to keep his displeasure at bay. It is obvious that he finds my small apartment repulsive. It is not dirty, but it is messy. My clothes are thrown about and my floors are covered with stacks of my favorite novels, my one escape.   
“This apartment is filthy Isabella,” Mr. Masen says in a low violent tone as he breathes down my neck. His hot breath sends a shiver down my spine. “I am very disappointed Isabella.”   
My cheeks flush as my entire body grows warm. “I’m sorry to displease you sir,” I say quietly, trying to suppress the growing smile on my face.   
I know what he is doing. I’ve decided that I quite like displeasing Mr. Masen. If he is going to do what I hope he will, I will most definitely like it very much.   
With a cool look, Mr. Masen moves past me to sit on the couch. He gestures for me to come toward him and I can’t help but trimmer with excitement. He smirks at me, as if he can read my thoughts and gestures for me to lie across his lap. I position myself so my ass is in the air waiting for his heavy hand.   
“Isabella I’m going to give you five spankings and then you are going to straighten up this apartment like a good girl. Do you understand me?”  
I can barely contain my excitement as I nod my head. As soon as Mr. Masen brings his hand down, firmly on my ass, I let out a small squeal and grow instantly wet. I’m still amazed that I am aroused by such a thing. His hand comes down four more times and by the time he is finished I am bathing in euphoria.   
“You ready to clean my sweet girl?”  
Part of me cannot believe that I am letting this strange man order me around. But I’m delighted by it. In a strange way I feel…cared for. I will soon be his contractual submissive and I know I will feel the weight of the world taken off of my shoulders.   
“Of course sir,” I smile shyly.   
“You’re going to clean this apartment and then I am going to fuck you on the floor.”  
I stifle a gasp and keep my eyes on the ground. Mr. Masen helps me off of his lap and into an upright position. My legs are shaky as I begin to clean. I keep my thighs pressed tightly together to relieve the tension building between my legs. It only made me more wet knowing that Mr. Masen was watching my every move. Seeing me clean was apparently pleasing to him.   
“Take off your coat,” he orders from the couch.   
My breath hitches at his command. I’m naked underneath and the thought of cleaning my apartment in the nude is oddly erotic. I slip out of my coat and let it drop to the floor, smiling at the sensation of my nipples puckering in the cold air. I finish my cleaning as Mr. Masen watches me comfortably from the couch. As I am picking up my last item of clothing, I feel him approach me, stopping to stand right behind me as I bend over to pick up a shirt.   
“See, was that so hard Isabella,” Mr. Masen mocks as his fingers trail up and down my wet folds.   
“No sir,” I moan as he slips one finger inside of me.   
“That’s it, get my fingers wet like a good girl Isabella.” Mr. Masen is pleased, and so am I.   
He pumps his fingers in me a few more times until I am dripping down my thighs.   
“Get on your knees Isabella,” he whispers into my ear. “Get on your knees and put your palms on the ground.”  
I immediately drop to my knees and follow his instructions. He falls to his knees behind me and strokes me with his warm fingers. Right before I reach an orgasm he pulls his fingers away. I the sound of his fly being unzipped and the tear of a foil packet. Soon his hands are back on me and I am intoxicated with his scent.   
“Are you ready for me Isabella,” he chuckles darkly. He does not wait for an answer. “You better be ready for me baby because you’re going to have to stay still and take it like a good girl.”   
Mr. Masen is inside me with one harsh thrust and begins an unforgiving pace, fucking me on the relentlessly on the hardwood floor. Three orgasms later, Mr. Masen is gone and I am left with my own thoughts. On Monday I will sign a contract; on Monday I will be his.   
The sun will soon rise and I find that I am not the least bit tired. Mr. Masen has given me a great deal to think about. I decide to take a long bath with the hope to relax and meditate on my future with a clear mind. It is nice to have a moment of clarity now that I am no longer under the influence of Mr. Masen’s presence. But I find that I am happy with my decision. I know that I need this.   
Before I take a couple of sleeping pills with the hopes of a night of restful sleep, I check my phone to see two missed calls and a voice mail. They are from hours ago. I recognize the number and suddenly feel nauseous. Oh God no!


	8. A Harsh Reality

Chapter VIII: A Harsh Reality   
My drive is both long and excruciating. The “retreat” is far from my home in the city; far from anyone who does not belong there. But after the call I received from Grace, I knew that I would have to come as soon as possible. I never thought this day would come and I can scarcely believe it is here.   
I veer off the highway onto a familiar road that is surrounded by birch trees. The road is long, winding, and unpopulated by vehicles. The further I move from the town the less people I see. As I pass a single gas station that looks practically abandoned, except for a truck and two older men smoking a cigarette on the sidewalk, I know that I am close. Turning off to a side road I pass by rows of trees and grass that has grown wild due to neglect. I see the familiar cedar wood gazebo and I know that I have found what I am looking for.   
A nurse I recognize waves at me as I pass the gazebo to the small parking lot near the facility. There are patients outside wondering about. I’m sure this is their “free time” to explore. The doctors say that experiencing the outdoors can really help especially after being kept inside for the majority of the day. I look for her, but she is nowhere to be found. She used to love the outdoors; she would lie outside and tan for hours while I played in the yard.   
Stepping out of my car, which thankfully managed to endure the trip, I smooth my dress and fix my hair. A nervous habit I picked up as a young girl. I wore my nicest dress today, because if all things go as the doctor had hoped, today would be a very good day. As I approach the facility I try to calm my nerves. It has been over two years since I was last here. I don’t even want to think about my last visit. It was so horrible and so very depressing. I had then thought that all hope was lost.   
This place is nothing like a hospital. Instead of uncomfortable stark white walls, unsympathetic furnishes, and the smell of antiseptic; the hues of this facility are warm and the furnishings inviting. It smells like burning candles and baked goods from the kitchen. But when I look around and see the community she lives in, I can’t help but feel unsettled. It’s the people here that put me on edge. The staff is nice but at times their expressions are unnerving. Perhaps because they know so much that I do not.   
I make my way to the second floor and walk towards the nurse’s station to be greeted by an attractive woman in her mid-forties dressed in blue scrubs. “I’m Isabella Swan here to see Renée Dwyer.”   
The nurse smiles kindly at me and hands me a visitor form and quickly writes my name on a small name tag. She wishes me well before directing me to the correct room. There are a few patients sitting around a television watching soap operas in the living area, but Renée is not one of them. I find her alone in her small room. She is painting a small picture of flowers and facing the window. She doesn’t notice my entrance, but then again, she barely notices much of anything.   
The doctor waltzes in before I can say anything to her. He is tall and clean cut, in an immaculate white coat and dark trousers. I am unfamiliar with him, I only remember the floor’s head doctor, Grace. He sees the confusion on my face and instantly introduces himself.   
“I’m Dr. Black and you must be Isabella Swan,” he smiles at me and then looks to Renée, who is completely unresponsive and barely notices us in the room. She is focusing on her brush strokes and humming softly. “Renée, it looks like you have a visitor today.”   
She ignores him and continues to dip her brush into the acrylic paint before applying it liberally to the canvas. I walk around her until I can see her face. It is familiar, but it is not the face I grew up seeing. She has smile lines but I know it has been quite a long time since her pretty face displayed any expression.   
“Mom,” my voice is barely above a whisper.   
Her eyes meet mine and I can barely breathe. The look she gives me shoots a dagger through my heart. It is as if she is seeing right through me, as if I am not in front of her, as if she does not recognize me. Her stare is crippling and tears immediately feel my eyes. I haven’t felt this weak in a long time.   
“Mom it’s me, Isabella.” I try to smile, but I’m sure it looks like a watery grimace.   
There is a fleeting look of recognition in her eyes before she looks away, her focus going back to her painting. Before a tear falls, I am out of the room. I can’t handle seeing her this way. I see Grace in the hallway; she smiles for a moment before she registers the look on my face.   
“I thought you said she could talk,” I say before Grace can so much as greet me.   
“She did Isabella, she spoke yesterday,” Grace assures me, her beautiful face troubled.   
“She didn’t say anything to me,” I gasp, trying to keep my emotions at bay.  
“I’m so sorry Isabella,” I hear Dr. Black solemnly say from behind me.   
“What did she say,” I manage to ask.   
Grace studies me for a moment, before she gives me a sad smile and says, “She said your name Isabella. She said your name quite a few times.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Bella’s mom isn’t dead. But her treatment is a major reason Bella turned to stripping and another reason it is hard to turn away from that lifestyle, turn away from the money. Before we got to the kink, I wanted to really explore Bella as a character so we have a better understanding of how some of her desires have developed. While she has never explored BDSM, the idea is something that she is drawn to because of the lack of stability and direction in her life, as well as being something she finds sexually appealing.


	9. A Dark Beginning

IX: A Dark Beginning   
I feel numb. Unlike before, I do not take in the scenery around me. Instead, my eyes are glued to the road and my mind is empty. The anxiety I had this morning is gone and replaced with a pain I had thought I had overcome. I had mourned the loss of my mother long ago. I had come to terms with her situation, accepting that the woman I once called my best friend was now gone. Just like my father, a man that was taken from us much too soon.   
But unlike my father, Renée was still breathing. But that was all she was doing, existing. It hurt me so much more than losing dad. I had dreamed that dad went to a better place, a place that seemed forever barred from me, yet Renée was stuck here. Unable to communicate and walking the earth like a lost soul. I send check after check with the hopes that she will get better, which makes it even more crushing to see her lack of progress.   
The small amount of hope I have for her is what keeps me going. Every night I spent on a stranger’s lap I thought of the money and the possibilities it could bring. It is a strange thought to think what my life could have been. A few short years ago I was in high school with a family, a wealth of friends, and a bright future ahead of me. In such a short time I had lost so much.   
Mr. Masen has provided me with much to consider. I could be his and he could take care of me, or I could turn my back on his offer and continue to fight my battles alone. He spoke of how freeing this lifestyle could be for someone like me. The idea sounds so appealing and though I have little clue to what it would entail; I want nothing more than to be his.   
Night has begun to fall by the time I reach my apartment in the city. I avoid eye contact with the prostitutes on the street corner as I make the short walk to my complex. One, a woman with red hair and a face that had been aged with drug use, runs her long fingernails through my hair as I pass her. They taunt me as I walk away, joking that they will enjoy the day when I am there with them. My eyes fill with tears but I don’t let a single one fall as I pull out my keys and unlock the door to my small sanctuary.   
I am meant to work tonight and I know if I do not show up Jack will send someone to check up on me. I dread Sunday nights at the club; they are depressing and filled with lonely men. Mr. Masen will be disappointed if I go, I know he will and the thought of seeing disapproval in his eyes pains me. But I don’t know if I can bear to spend the night alone in my apartment. There is too much for me to think about and my work is the perfect place for me to lose myself. I can take on the personality of another and pretend to live a different life for a while.   
I eat a small dinner by myself and let the television run in the background, appreciating the noise. Tossing half of my meal in the trash, I travel to my closet to choose my outfit for tonight. I choose the lace outfit from my night with Mr. Masen. Reruns play as I sit in front of my small television and do my hair and makeup. I cake on foundation and mascara until I barely recognize myself in the mirror.   
It’s eleven and I quickly call a taxi, already knowing that I will be late. Jack hates when his girls are late. Most his threats are empty, but when you are as poor as many of us they can inspire fear. For many girls, this job is the only constant they have in life.   
The taxi is prompt and I quickly throw on my trench to cover my joke of an outfit. The air is becoming crisp as the season begins to change and I find many gently trembling along the apartment walls as they brave the cold night.   
I keep my thoughts neutral on the way to the club. I don’t dare think of Mr. Masen or our deal. I could only imagine what he would think if he saw me this instant. There are a few cars in the parking lot when we arrive. They sit in the dark parking lot, illuminated only by the flashing light of the sign “Girls! Girls! Girls!”   
I pay the driver and he quickly drives away. It appears that not even he wants to be on this side of town. As I walk toward the club I see a dark van sitting by the entrance. The headlights are not on but I can see that the car is running. It stands out in this neighborhood. It is much nicer than the cars that usually vacate the lot. Well, besides Mr. Masen’s car of course.   
I avoid it as I make my way toward the front doors. The windows are tinted, but I can’t help but feel there is someone inside the car watching me. Whether the reason is sinister or not, something about the ominous van puts me on edge. My heart nearly leaps into my throat as a tall man steps out of the driver’s seat.   
“Miss Swan,” a deep voice says as he moves to step toward me.   
Under the bright red lights of the club I see him. He is very formal and clean, in a black suit and navy tie. He is well over six foot, an inch or two taller than Mr. Masen and built very sturdy. His features are striking, but not handsome. I find that I have never seen this man before in my life.   
“Do I know you,” I question in a clear voice.   
“Miss Swan I think that it is best that you come with me.”   
I choke out an awkward laugh. “Go with you,” I question incredulously, “I’ve never seen you before in my life.”   
“You know Mr. Masen yes?”  
Mr. Masen? This man knows Mr. Masen? Is he under Mr. Masen’s employment or has Mr. Masen merely paid this man to follow me? I remain silent as my mind is reeling and I can manage nothing more than to nod my head in affirmation.   
“He asked me to come here to retrieve you.”   
“So Mr. Masen is not with you?”  
“No Miss, Mr. Masen is at work right now.”  
“So he sent you here? How did he know where I was?”  
“I think it’s best that you come with me Miss. I will take you back to Mr. Masen’s home.”   
I shake my head and I feel my body back away from the van.   
“I have to work.”   
“Mr. Masen insisted that you come with me.”   
What will Mr. Masen do if I do not come, and why hasn’t he mentioned this man before? Mr. Masen had mentioned staff that lived with him, but he did not explain much. Perhaps he did not think it was my place to know. I mean he was not willing to even tell me his Christian name. He has offered me so much; do I really dare defy him? This club is not what I want, but then nothing in my life it as I had once imagined it. Taking one last look at the job I have relied on for so long, I make my way toward the dark van.


	10. The First Punishment

** X: The First Punishment **

The kitchen is impersonal and immaculate. There is not a single item out of place, leading me to believe this room is barely used. Mr. Masen does not seem like a man who cooks meals for himself. I am quite sure he has the staff to do any domestic task for him. I wonder if he will expect such things from me. I’ve always been fond of cooking. I grew up with my mother in the kitchen. She was quite the domestic, raised by a mother who believed that it was a woman’s duty to perform such tasks.

_“Just a small spoonful of cookie dough Bella,” mom laughs as she scoops up a spoonful of batter, chocolate chips, and m &m’s and brings it to my lips. “Remember not to tell daddy Bella. This is our little secret.” _

The distant memory brings tears to my eyes. Renée gave me everything she could. She wanted to bless me with the perfect childhood and because of her I grew up healthy and happy. I can only offer her the same chance at happiness now that she needs me. How could I possibly forsake her after she had given me so much?

“Mr. Masen will be here soon Miss,” Mr. Masen’s henchman assures me before he offers me a drink.

“Gin and tonic,” I mummer as I stare incredulously at the man, “Can you tell me your name at least?”

“Stephen, I’m sorry I had not introduced myself earlier,” he formally apologizes as he mixes my drink.

So I am on a first name basis with Mr. Masen’s help and yet I do not know his name. Perhaps he does not consider me his equal. Perhaps it’s better this way, it will assure a distance between us. Stephen hands me my drink and leaves me to occupy the silent kitchen with only my thoughts to entertain me. After today being alone with my thoughts seems dangerous.

As I finish off my drink I hear the front door open and the steady sound of heavy footsteps making their way toward me. Goosebumps cover my naked legs as I feel him in the air. As his footsteps become louder my breath becomes more shallow, leaving me breathless when I finally see his impressive form enter the kitchen.

“Isabella,” he greets coolly. His eyes trail up and down my body before he smirks and orders, “I would like a coffee black.” 

He takes a seat at the kitchen island and loosens his tie before giving me a look of expectation. With shaky legs I rise from my chair and quickly move to serve him. I cannot read his demeanor. He looks very collected on the outside, but his green eyes are simmering, as if he is trying to contain himself.

I bring him his drink and place it on the table before him with my eyes down. I feel his intense stare but I do not dare look into his eyes. I hear him take a drink before harshly setting the mug back down on the counter.

“Come and sit on my lap Isabella. I would like to have a discussion with you.”

His chair slides back, screeching against the wooden floors, and Mr. Masen quickly pulls me onto his lap. His hands are on my legs and his hot breath warms my neck.

“What’s underneath your trench coat Isabella,” Mr. Masen coldly questions before pushing me off of his lap and back on his feet.

“Mr. Masen,” I stutter out as I pull my coat tightly against me.

“Take off your trench coat Isabella. I want to see what you decided to wear underneath.”

There is a cold edge to his voice I don’t want to recognize. I feel his body tense in his chair and I quickly unbuckle my coat before he can order me again. As my coat falls to the ground around my feet my eyes quickly meet Mr. Masen’s to find them filled with anger and disappointment.

“Do you make a habit of going out in lingerie Isabella, or were you meaning to defy me?”

His voice is harsh and suddenly I feel disappointed in myself. I long to please him and yet I have already let him down. My eyes drop to my feet and my arms wrap around my stomach to hide my nakedness.

“I thought we had discussed this Isabella. I thought I could trust you to stop.”

A tear trails down my cheek. A tear filled with both wavering hope and disappointment in myself.

“Stop crying Isabella,” Mr. Masen orders as he stands up from his seat, “Come with me.”

I reach for my jacket but Mr. Masen stops me. “Leave it,” he says coldly before he grabs my hand and pulls me from the room.

Will he hurt me? I can feel that he wants too. I can feel the anger seeping out of his pores as he pulls me down the dark hallway into a room I have yet to see. It is well furnished and large. Bookshelves line one wall and there is a large bed in the room’s center. It has no sheets, no pillows, just a silk black mattress cover. There is a large door that looks like it leads to an adjourning room and my mind instantly is filled with imaginings of what lie beyond it.

“We have no agreement Isabella, which was something I hoped to reach tomorrow during our meeting. But I had not imagined that you would choose to defy me so soon. I am very disappointed in you Isabella. I need you to consent to this punishment Isabella. A verbal agreement if you will.”

_Do I want this?_ As Mr. Masen’s submissive this will be my reality; my body will be his to do with as he sees fit. I know little concerning verbal agreements so I resign to put all my trust in Mr. Masen. My tears have dried up completely and I slowly nod my head, agreeing to his punishment.

Sir bends me over and begins to rub my ass. It feels wonderful and for a moment I forget that this intoxicating feeling will soon turn to pain. The room fills with the delicious noise of his hand coming down hard on my ass. I feel myself warm beneath his palm and I can’t help but provocatively shake my ass before he rewards me with another hit.

“I will never do anything you cannot handle Bella,” he says in a heavy voice as he hits my opposite cheek.

My ass is rubescent and feverish by the time Mr. Masen has finished using his twitching palm. Wetness is pooling between my legs, drenching my lace panties. Mr. Masen pulls me up into a standing position and turns me around so he can look me in the eye. His eyes contain unbridled passion as he looks upon me and I feel my entire body flush, warming up just like my ass.

“I want to ask you one more time Bella, do you consent to being punished?”

His voice is rich like dark chocolate and I bite back a quiet moan. I’m still keen, and surprised by how I yearn for this, I nod my head in agreement.  

Mr. Masen rewards me with a tight smile. His eyes are shining with both mirth and ferocity, a mix that unnerves me as I stand before him. My nipples pucker under the thin fabric of my bra and my body is shaking in its rigid stance. Mr. Masen smirks before ambling toward the mysterious door. He returns with a black leather paddle in hand. Its size is daunting and I feel as if my body is deteriorating beneath my skin. I do my best to stand confident and tall as he saunters back toward me.

“Do you understand why I am punishing you Isabella,” he sternly asks as he looks down at me.

Do I speak or am I meant to remain silent? I want to be Mr. Masen’s good girl.

“You may answer me Isabella,” Mr. Masen guides me.

“Because I disobeyed you sir,” I answer in a clear but quiet voice, “because I went to the club.”

“Yes, Isabella. You went to your job after I expressed a specific order for you to give it up. You agreed to this punishment Isabella. I will hit you ten times. If you are reaching your limit, express this by calling out the safe word ‘yellow.’ If you have reached your limit, the safe word is ‘red.’ This is a punishment Isabella. You are not meant to enjoy this. Nod if you understand.”

I nod and Mr. Masen directs me to bend over the bed with my ass in the air. I gasp as he pulls down my panties and orders me to step out of them. I feel so incredibly exposed like this. I hold my breath in anticipation as I feel Mr. Masen warming up behind me. Mr. Masen asks me once more if I am ready, and I quickly affirm that I am. I want to move past this.

I cry out as the hard paddle comes down on my exposed ass. He holds nothing back and the first blow stings and a sharp pain quickly shoots down my legs. My knees almost buckle but I remain strong. The second hit shakes me to my core. I feel my ass begin to blister and tears prick my eyes. By the fourth hit my butt is becoming numb and my tears are flowing freely down my cheeks. The fifth hit has me feeling lost. I begin to revel in the pain, enjoying how freeing it is.

Usually I bottle my pain deep inside. Experiencing the pain I have kept so carefully at bay physically is quite liberating. Mr. Masen explained that I was not to enjoy this…but I find that I do. My pussy becomes wet and begins to drip down my legs by the sixth hit. I wait for the seventh but it does not come.

“This is a punishment Isabella.” Mr. Masen reprimands me for hitting my “space,” but I don’t know what that means. “You are not to enjoy this. I can see how wet you are. Should I hit you harder?”

I gasp at the thought. Could I handle it? He hits me again and I suppress a groan. Tears fall but I no longer feel pain. I no longer feel desire but I am not repulsed by his strong hits either. After the tenth blow is finished I hear him drop the paddle by his feet. Mr. Masen pulls me into his arms and gently lies me on the bed.

He places an oddly tender kiss on my forehead before excusing himself from the room. I stare up at the dark ceiling and wipe my tears. I feel lighter than ever. It’s as if the pain inside has finally come to the surface, I can finally see the evidence of it and I feel so incredibly alive.

Mr. Masen returns with a glass of lukewarm water, Advil, and a small container of cream. He instructs me to take the medicine and finish the glass before he has me lay on my stomach so he can liberally apply the fragrant free cream to my backside. His touch feels good, an amazing contrast from the harsh and unforgiving paddle.

“I would like for you to stay here tonight Isabella. That way I can keep an eye on you. Tomorrow we will discuss a contract.” His voice is stern but his touch is soft.

He helps me up from the bed and hand in hand we exit the room.

“You should be very proud of yourself Isabella. You did incredibly well.”

I flush with pride. _I’ve pleased Sir_. As he guides me upstairs, I can’t help but wonder what lies beyond that mysterious door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One important thing I want to stress is that Bella likes receiving pain just as much as Edward enjoys giving it. Some submissives are even “bratty” and do things on purpose to get punished. Also the “space” Edward was referring to is a “subspace.” When your body overloads on adrenaline or endorphins you can reach a high that many call a “subspace.” Because he was administering a punishment he didn’t want Bella to reach this.


	11. Coming Clean

XI: Coming Clean

“I want to understand Isabella,” Mr. Masen states as he leads me down an unfamiliar hallway that ends at a dark seat of stairs.

His tone was officious but his demeanor had become gentler. The contrast was odd and I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a different man entirely under the cold fascinating man I had met at the club. I would feel something in his gaze at times that unnerved me and being near him can conjure up feelings I don’t understand.

“Sir?”

“Why did you defy me? You can be honest with me Isabella,” his voice is commanding but his eyes are soft as they gaze down at me.

I close my eyes to block the world out. I don’t want to bear my soul to this man; I don’t want him to know of all my problems. I fear he will see me differently, that the look in the depths of his eyes would change. I wouldn’t be able to stand it if that were so. He looks at me like no one else has. Everyone sees through me as if I am of little importance. Perhaps that is because it is true? Who am I really? Who am I besides a pathetic stripper? Who, at the age of twenty-two, can barely feed or take care of herself, let alone those who need her.

_“Sometimes it’s good to keep men in the dark about things sweetheart. Why trouble a boy with all of your issues? He has issues of his own,” mom said as she popped a freshly baked cookie onto a plate for me. Giving me a kind smile, she is the vision of a domestic goddess, straight out of a 1950s comedy television show._

“Isabella we can’t keep secrets. In our relationship we must be completely honest with each other.” His dry voice brought me back to reality.

I hesitate and avoid his gaze. While speaking my mind might be difficult, telling the truth has the potential to be so alleviating. I have never had a friend to talk to about my mother. Any friends I had in grade school have moved on with their life, leaving this small town to pursue bigger and better things. I feel Mr. Masen grow tense at my side and I decide to speak before he can demand more of me.

“I have people that rely on me Mr. Masen,” I meekly state, “a person really.”

Mr. Masen does not look surprised, but his expression does soften.

“I’m all she has,” I manage to whisper.

As much as it pains me to speak of, I do feel such a sense of relief. It is easier to breath and I don’t feel as heavy as I did this morning. Mr. Masen has allowed me to confide in him. He accepts my answer and nods his head. I feel tears mist in my eyes and can tell that Mr. Masen does not want to push the subject any further at the moment. Sir holds my hand as he leads me down the stairs to a well-furnished basement. I shouldn’t be impressed, considering the amazing design of the rest of his home, but I am. There is a large television that protrudes from a brick wall and a row of leather chairs that sits in front of it. I can’t remember the last time I have been to a movie theatre. I grew up going with my mother, but now that I am on my own I haven’t the money to afford it. A bar sits in the room’s corner and in the opposite corner is what looks to be a small guest room. Could this be where he wants me to stay? The guest room alone is already much larger than my apartment. It is amazing that one person can have so much when so many go through life with so little.

“You may stay down here tonight Isabella.” Mr. Masen gently takes hold of my hand and ushers me to the guest bedroom.

“When you sign the contract tomorrow I would like you to stay here full time. I can find you a position and offer you a salary; you will want for nothing Isabella. Let me take care of you. You are such a good girl, my good girl, and you deserve to have someone watching over you.” His words take my breath away. Tears prick my eyes as I remember the last time someone took care of me. I have been alone for so long and here is this strange man offering me relief. “Do you want that Isabella? Do you want to stay here and be a good girl for me?”

I bite my lip to keep my childish grin at bay. Have I ever been so happy? I nod and he rewards me with a rare grin. His eyes are light and filled with relief. I know this is happening quickly, but an offer like this is rare for someone like me. This could mean so much; a fresh start and a hope for a better future. Mr. Masen knows me in no more than a biblical sense and yet he is prepared to give me the world. I can only hope that I can give him just as much in return. I want to make Mr. Masen happy, I want to please him, I want to be his good girl.


	12. Previewing the Contract

Chapter XII: Previewing the Contract

Everyday has felt like a never-ending dream; I imagine myself walking down a long dark road with no end in sight. As I walk, I wait for the dream to end, expect it never does. The world around me grows darker and yet I still move forward as if I am oblivious to my situation. Mr. Masen has woken me up. I can barely remember the fear I once felt before I was in his presence. The fear has been replaced with a hunger I cannot describe. 

The pain is still in my heart though. 

The one person who has shown me both love and compassion can now no longer remember my name. I see the shell of the woman she once was and if it were not for the random sparks of recognition in her bright green eyes I would assume all hope was loss. 

Mr. Masen is cruel, but not as cruel as the world has been to me. It could have eaten me whole if I allowed it. I think that Mr. Masen believes that I am strong. I see it in his eyes but he has yet to say it aloud. 

Although God and I have been at odds for years, I think Him for the simple things in life that have kept me sane. As I lay in this foreign bed in this strange room I can't help but feel blessed. This situation is unique, but somewhere, deep in my subconscious perhaps, I know it is what I need. 

Mr. Masen left after rubbing my back and liberally applying a non-fragrant cream to my behind. He was so tender with his touches, treating me as if I was the most valuable antique. Now he has given me time to think; stating that he wanted me to have the freedom to make my important decision in peace. 

The contract sits in my lap and I have not yet gained the courage to look at it. Mr. Masen walked me through it while he massaged me. Discussing soft limits and expectations he will have for me as his submissive. 

The contract is extremely detailed. While it is not something that can be enforced by law, it does serve as an understanding between Mr. Masen and me. He explained that it will develop a level of trust, so we are always on the same page. 

I read through his expectations of me and feel almost delighted by the structure the contract will provide. He has provided me with a proscribed list of foods and as I glance at them I realize how horrid my eating habits are. 

While I used to pride myself for my skills in the kitchen, I cannot remember the last time I had a balanced meal that I created. When mom first began to deteriorate in front of me, I would cook her favorite meals, thinking the smell in the kitchen would arouse her memory. It did not work, but it allowed me to create memories with my mom that I will hold onto forever. 

I would like to cook meals for Mr. Masen; I would like to take care of him just as he has promised to take care of me. The contract also stresses the importance of avoiding drug and alcohol while under Mr. Masen's control. I can't help but wonder if Mr. Masen has ever thought me to be one who abuses drugs. I suppose it could make sense, many girls I work with have done lines in front of me, but I always avoided such things. 

I skim through the section regarding sex toys until my eyes fall upon genital clamps. If Mr. Masen was here to see my expression I am certain he would laugh. I blush as I read the list as I read about various dildos and vibrators. My entire body feels hot at the thought of masturbating in front of Sir. My mouth grows dry as my body heats with need. 

Sliding into a pair of slippers I leave my room in search for a cool glass of water. I walk toward the small bar and grab a bottle of sparkling water from the mini-fridge. I wonder if Mr. Masen entertains many guests here. That is, if he has any friends at all. He seems so cold at times; I wonder if he has ever let anyone in. 

While his home is beautiful, it does not look lived in. The furnishings seem impersonal as if they were picked by someone else or merely ordered from a catalog. Nothing about this home feels unique to Mr. Masen, but oddly enough it is quite fitting for such a man. 

Footsteps are heard from above; the sound of heavy shoes padding across the hardwood floor has me wondering if Mr. Masen is still awake at this hour. It is well after two and I am sure he has to work tomorrow. 

Unable to help myself, I carefully walk up the basement steps, not wanting to alert Sir of my presence. I feel the corner of my mouth turn up as I see Mr. Masen pacing the floor with papers in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. I wonder what it is this man does. 

Although I am careful not to disturb him, Sir's eyes fall upon me as soon as I reach the top step. He looks concerned and places his mug down on his living room table. 

"Isabella, what are you doing up? Is something the matter?"

He looks so incredibly stressed. 

"No Sir. I was awake reading the contract."

"Good," he smiles, although his posture is still tense.

"Are you alright Sir?"

For a moment I think he will reprimand me for speaking out of turn, but instead his shoulders drop and he falls back against a leather chair. 

"I am fine Bella."

I stare at his briefcase and papers scattered about on his large table, before gazing back at the worn down man in front of me. 

"Is there something I can do Sir?"

He cocks his brow and gives me a small smile. Running his hand through his unruly hair, he allows the papers to fall to the table and motions for me to join him on the chair. 

I quickly oblige, happy to help Mr. Masen with whatever ails him. His body relaxes against mine as soon as I place myself on his lap. He burrows his face between my breasts and inhales deeply. I run my fingers through his hair and we stay like this as time loses it's meaning around us. 

Mr. Masen rubs my back with his strong hands and I relish in the feeling, although I originally wanted to soothe him. 

"Thank you Bella," he says quietly. 

"I did nothing Sir."

"Your presence is enough. Being around you is intoxicating." 

I beam at his words. 

"What did you think of the contract," he formally inquires. 

"I don't know what to make of it, mainly because I am new to all of this, but I do believe we can come to an agreement," I try to match his sudden formality. 

"I hope so Bella." He is quiet for a moment before his face grows grave and he asks, "Who is it you look after? Would it help if they were here with you?"

Mom is the last thing I wish to discuss. I wonder if there will ever be a day in which the topic was not painful. 

"She receives the best care where she is at. I know I cannot provide for her like they can."

"How old," Mr. Masen asks with concern laced in his tone. 

I am confused for a moment before I reach the understanding that he believes I am a mother. Oh the irony, I feel like a mother on many occasions. 

"Fifty-two."

Mr. Masen's brows rise for a second, before his face morphs into pity, pity that I do not want from him. 

"Your mother I presume?"

I nod my head but do not verbally respond. This is not something I wish to speak of and Mr. Masen seems to understand my silent wish; he stops pressing me and decides to comfort my body instead.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter XIII: Mr. Masen’s Checklist**

The home is quiet and vacant. All of the morning commotion has ceased now that Mr. Masen has left for work and the staff is gone performing whatever duties Mr. Masen pays them to do. When I came upon Mr. Masen this morning at his formal dining room table, I was troubled to see how stressed he appeared. With a phone glued to his ear and an eager pen rapidly marking his paper, stress was practically trickling from his pores. He was curt with me but did state that I was allowed to move freely throughout his home. _“You may open any door that is unlocked; the rest is off limits Bella.”_

Mr. Masen insisted that I study the contract and see to some research in one of his libraries. I offered to make him breakfast, wanting to please him and soothe his tension, but he politely declined and left me to my own devices.

His house feels different without him in it. I never realized how powerful and domineering his presence truly was until I was free of it for a while. The man was an enigma, I wonder if a day will come where I will truly understand him. I want to know him and I want him to know me. I have gone through these past few years without a single person who understands me. All of my relationships have stayed at a surface level since mom’s memory has drifted away. I lost myself somewhere between the time she was my best friend and the time she was a stranger.

I hope that through this exploration I will find myself again. Perhaps through a lack of control I’ll gain peace of mind and self-realization. Maybe I am being hopeful, but I can’t help but feel an energy between Mr. Masen and me that suggests this could be something more than a physical relationship.

With the contract in hand I search for the library. My mind is always free when I am surrounded by books. When I find the room it is something out of a dream. My mind goes to my fascination of _Beauty and the Beast_ as a child. I remember the moment the Beast presented Belle with the library and even as a child my excitement soared at the thought of such a place.

Every wall in this room was lined with a tall bookshelf and every shelf was filled with books. Volumes after volumes beautifully bound and organized by color. _Mr. Masen is quite the perfectionist._ In the center of the room there are large leather chairs that are facing all different directions. I sink into the one that looks most used and place the contract on my lap. My eyes scan over the first page of the contract before looking toward the list of activities Mr. Masen has provided me with.

An agreement will take research and focus on my part. This man knows about this lifestyle while I know very little. I’ve seen men who fantasize about being hit, whipped, and even kicked in the crotch. I’ve seen coworkers dress up in all leather as if to suggest they would dominate the costumer they were using at the time. Obviously with policies in place that make touching a very serious offense, I’ve never actually witnessed any “domination” actually take place. It is, after all, a strip club and not one of the erotic clubs I’ve seen advertised on our bathroom billboards.

I’m disgusted at the thought. There was something so vile about the men I would see, they were all primal and careless about their actions. But there is nothing about Mr. Masen that would repulse me. I feel he could debase me completely and I would still be yearning for more. My willingness is so strong that it frightens me at times. As I glance over the contract I can’t help but feel like Alice falling down the rabbit hole into a world that is entirely new.

Looking away from the contract I look toward the attached list Mr. Masen has suggested me. _“Because you are new to this lifestyle this list is incredibly important. Be open and honest, perhaps make notes as to what you wish to discuss. I’ll guide you, but to do that you must be open._ ”

Mr. Masen’s words ring through my head as I began to review it with a pen in hand.

_**Tried:** Have you tried this? Circle Yes or No_

_**Rating:** How does each make you feel/ how do you expect to feel._

_**Curious-** Perhaps you have never tried this, or only tried this on few occasions, and want to experience more to help come to a decision on whether you like the activity and how much you might like the activity._

_**Essential-** This is something you can’t see yourself enjoying a scene/date/relationship without._

_**Love-** You love doing this activity._

_**Like-** You like doing this activity._

_**Don’t Mind-** You can take this or leave this. _

_**Dislike-** You dislike this but will put up with it for your partner. _

_**Hate-** You hate this but will put up with it for your partner. _

_**Soft Limit-** Something you cannot attempt at this time but might be possible in the future._

_**Hard Limit-** Something you will not ever attempt._

_Anal Play- Acts in which the anus is involved._

_Beating- (General) Acts in which one partner is beaten._

Something about a cane feels so violent. Perhaps it is from the amount of old literature and historical stories I read in high school. _David Copperfield_ by Dickens comes to mind. _“David if I have an obstinate horse or dog to deal with, what do you think I do?”_ The thought of Mr. Masen caning me causes me to turn ice cold. I quickly make it a soft limit and proceed to read.

My eyes scan over “Beating with crops, beating with floggers, beating with hairbrushes, beating with paddles, spanking, beating straps, beating whips…” I find that they all sound bearable. I love when Mr. Masen spanks me with his heavy hand, but of course I have no experience with the rest. I note that I haven’t tried the activities before but indicate that I would be open to the experience. Then in alphabetical order I read the list of beating locations, “back, bottom, chest, feet, genitals, legs.” Of course my bottom is fine; I flush at the memory of the last time Mr. Masen’s hand was coming down on my ass. I indicate that I don’t mind the locations, mostly due to my lack of experience. I don’t know if I “like” or “love” the locations yet.

My eyes glance over body modifications such as branding, piercing, scarification, and tattooing and quickly circle “hard limit” next to each. Mr. Masen has stated that these were hard limits for him as well. That is quite the relief; I am shocked to find that they are even listed. I couldn’t imagine getting arousal through scarification, the idea is shocking.

The next item indicates prolonged bondage and my claustrophobia is instantly standing in attention. The thought of not being able to move for long periods of time makes my stomach tighten and my chest restrict. As I read through the options of bondage, some seem more appealing than others. Spreader bars seem interesting and having my hands bound would not likely cause me any distress, it is when I see strait jackets that I find it hard to breath. Having the level of restriction of my arms and torso is most definitely a hard limit. I write Mr. Masen a note and star the activity so we can discuss it further.

My eyes continue down the list “asphyxiation,” “catheters,” “electricity,” and “fire sensation play,” all stand out and I quickly mark them as hard limits. Everything else seems so enticing. How I will respond to the stimulation will be a mystery to Mr. Masen and me. I want to discover every way I could receive pleasure. The roleplaying subject matters get me especially hot. I love the idea of participating in such scenes with Mr. Masen. He is giving me the ability to live out so many of my fantasies. Many fantasies that have lain dormant for so long, I never realized there were so many desires I had. Perhaps that is why I never felt fulfilled with any other man. Perhaps that is why no other man truly interested me.

I read about beads, butt plugs, dildos, and eggs and my imagination goes wild at each activity. Finishing the list, I indicate that I enjoy any manner of worship. The idea of our mouths on each other’s bodies so intimately, makes me incredibly wet. I finish circling my last rating and put the pen down. My whole body is flush and a feeling of euphoria overcomes me. Leaning back into the leather chair, I allow my hand to drift between my legs and begin to touch myself as I imagine what lies ahead.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning, this story will have some dark themes and isn’t for the faint of heart. It definitely won’t be a love story in the traditional sense, but if you stick with me I know you will enjoy it! And a big thanks for my pre-reader Sophie!


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